


What Never Was

by br420



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-11 04:56:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15965168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/br420/pseuds/br420
Summary: Max wakes up in a strange place immediately following the events in the game, unsure of where she is or what's going on.





	What Never Was

**Author's Note:**

> A note to fans of the game. I originally wrote this shortly after finishing the game, years ago, and it's largely remained unchanged. As such, it does not take into account events or facts from the the prequel game, Before the Storm. I considered trying to factor all of that in, but decided against it for reasons I will explain more thoroughly at the end of the story.

* * *

I’m falling.

It’s the first sensation that strikes me. 

I’m falling backwards through the air, staring up into the blue sky with my arms and legs pinwheeling madly about, looking for something, anything, to grasp, but finding nothing. It seems to last forever, though it can’t be more than a few seconds before the second sensation hits me, which is … well … the ground.

The impact knocks the wind out of me, and it's followed quickly by my head snapping back and hitting even harder. The pain makes me want to scream, but I have no breath. I want to grab at my head or chest, but my limbs won’t obey my commands either, so instead I just kind of claw at the grass, gasping for air.

Chloe’s face swims into view, only… it’s not Chloe. Or at least it’s not my Chloe. Not the Chloe I know now. This Chloe is nine, maybe ten, long blonde hair flapping in the breeze, not the blue haired punk girl with a sleeve tattoo and piercings I’ve come to know so well in the last week.  This Chloe is saying something, but I can’t hear over the ringing in my ears.

_ What the fuck, Max? Did you go back in time again? How? Where am I? When am I? _

I try to bring the world back into focus. To notice other details. I realize I’m in Chloe’s backyard because I can see the rusty old swing set we used to play on. Only it’s not old and rusty. In fact it looks brand new.

_ Wait. I remember this day. I was … 8?  It was the first day Chloe got the new swing set.  She was pushing me too high and I got scared, so I tried to jump off and landed on back instead. I got a lump the size of a golf ball out of it, and William took us to the Two Whales for ice cream to make me feel better. _

The ringing in my ears subsides a bit and I can hear Chloe now.

“Max! Holy shit, it is you. Can you hear me?” She sounds desperate. Scared. Chloe didn’t sound scared much when we were kids. “What the fuck Max? Someone! Anyone fucking help! She dying!”

_ That’s … odd. I mean I’m hurt, but not that bad. Concentrate Max. How did you get here?  What’s the last thing you remember? _

I remember standing on the hill next to the lighthouse with Chloe as the storm raged around us, the tornado closed in on Arcadia Bay, ready to destroy everything. Kill everyone.

Only we weren’t looking at the storm. We were looking at each other. Chloe was arguing with me. Trying to convince me…

_ "There's so many more people in Arcadia Bay who should live... way more than me..." _

Trying to convince me to make that awful choice. To use my power again to go back to the bathroom and let her die.   


_ "I know I've been selfish, but for once I think I should accept my fate... our fate..." _

Let her die so we could prevent the storm from happening.

_ "Max, you finally came back to me this week, and... you did nothing but show me your love and friendship. Wherever I end up after this... in whatever reality... all those moments between us were real, and they'll always be ours." _

Only they wouldn’t. Not if I did what she was asking.   


_ “Chloe, I can’t make this choice!” _

She would die never knowing I was there. Never knowing I cared or came back. Never knowing.

_ “No Max. You’re the only one who can.” _

I can remember reaching out for her face…

The memory seems disjointed though. Double exposed. Like there are two memories playing in my head at one time. In one, I’m ripping up the butterfly photo and letting the storm carry the pieces away, and in another I’m focussing on it to try and travel back to Monday.

_ Then why the fuck am I here? I should be in the in the bathroom if anywhere. I don’t want to be there. I can’t let her die. Not now. _

But whether I want it or not, the world shifts around me and I find myself in the girls bathroom at Blackwell Academy, lying on the tiled floor, looking up at Chloe’s face ringed in a halo from the fluorescent lighting.

The real Chloe. Blue hair. Sleeve Tattoo. Beanie. Everything.

“Shit Max, why the hell did you do that? Hold on Max.” She’s trying to talk reassuringly to me, but I can hear the panic in her voice as she turns to scream over her shoulder. “Someone!  Anyone please help! She’s dying!”

_ This is still different Max. Still wrong. What did you fuck up this time? _

Oddly, reaching back to more recent memory seems even harder. More disjointed. Conflicting memories colliding together. 

I focus hard on the memory where I accepted Chloe’s request. I remember taking the picture of the butterfly. Hearing Nathan enter and start talking to himself. Chloe entering. The argument. I remember all of it happening exactly like it did the first time only…

 

* * *

 

“Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid.”  _ God, is that Chloe?  _

“I know you been pumpin' drugs n' shit to kids around here... I bet your respectable family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now.”   _ It sounds just like her. _

“Leave them out of this, bitch.” I peek around the corner and see Nathan with a death grip on the sink.  I want to get a better view of the girl behind him.

“I can tell everybody Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself!”  _ Shit, that is Chloe. What’s she doing? Can’t she see how close he is to losing it? _

“You don't know who the fuck I am or who you're messing around with!”  Nathan yells as he pulls the gun on Chloe. I can see her cocky expression melt into fear almost instantly.

“Where'd you get that? What are you doing? Come on, put that thing down!”

“Don't EVER tell me what to do. I'm so SICK of people trying to control me!” I can hear Nathan’s grip on reality fail completely. He’s totally out of it. He has no idea what he’s doing anymore. _  He’s going to shoot her. _

“You are going to get in hella more trouble for this than drugs.” Chloe says, trying to divert Nathan’s rage and put some space between her body and the gun, but Nathan just jams it into her gut.  

“Nobody would ever miss your ‘punk ass’ would they?” 

Without even realizing I’ve decided to act, I find myself lunging out from around the corner, knocking the old mop bucket over and screaming. “No!”

Time seems to stop. 

Somehow Nathan and Chloe are already looking at me. The noise must have drawn their attention before I even came into view. Nathan is staring straight at me, with a slightly confused look, his right hand outstretched towards me.

_ Is he trying to rewind time? _

Chloe is staring at me too, a mixture of horror and recognition frozen on her face.  

Between us, the blue butterfly is fluttering through the air. It feels like it’s the only thing moving for a few seconds.

Then it hits me.  

I know where I am and why.

Everything comes into focus again as all my memories and visions merge into a single timeline, and I lie on the floor dying from a gunshot wound.

 

* * *

 

 

_ This isn’t how it happened. Either I sat here and let her die, or I stopped Nathan when I developed my time travel powers. I never got shot.  _

_ Dumbass. Of course you got shot. This time at least.  _

“You’re going to be okay Max! God, why did you do that? Why were you here? Shit. Shit. Shit.”  Chloe covered in blood, I realize, my vision briefly clearing. It’s all over her shirt and arms, the color mixing in with the bright floral and skull tattoo running up her arm.  __

_ Did that fucker shoot her too? _

There’s no one else here. Nathan must have bolted. I try to move, but pain shoots through my chest and I cry out.

_ It’s not her blood you idiot.  It’s yours. _

“Shitballs. Just stay still Max.  Don’t move.” She turns to the door and yells again, “Help!  Someone help! Godammit!” She’s holding something to my chest. It’s her beanie I realize. 

_ No Chloe, you’ll get it all dirty. _ She’s holding it against the wound, I guess, trying to keep my blood from gushing out any faster.

There’s a lot of blood.  I can feel myself losing consciousness, and I want to give in, but I can’t. Not yet. This may be the only time I get.

“Chloe!” I call, trying to reach up for her. Clawing frantically at her arm. She’s so fuzzy now. I can’t seem to focus. I really want to focus on her face.

“Shut up Max. Save your energy. For fucks sake won’t someone come in here and help!”

“Chloe. I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. Even though I deserve it. I’m so sorry. Sorry for … leaving. Sorry for not .. calling. Sorry… for this. Sorry for … everything.”

“I’m not leaving Max. Hold on. Please. Just hold on.”  I hear a door bang open behind her. “David! Help! Nathan shot her and she’s dying! Please!”

“I’m sorry Chloe.” I whisper. I don’t know if she can even hear me anymore.  “I …”

I can hear an explosion of activity all around me as the world seems to fade away. 

_ That’s all the time I get. _

 

* * *

 

 

There’s no movement, but I’m in a different place.  

I’m standing on a flat, gray, stone floor that seems to extend forever in every direction. There are no walls and no ceiling that I can see. Everything just kind of fades into empty blackness ten feet away from me in every direction.

Oddly I’m wearing a hospital gown.

I wait for a little while, expecting something to happen, but nothing does. It’s a little boring, to be honest. If this is being dead, it’s not all it’s not all that. But at least it doesn’t seem to hurt. I reach up to touch my chest and I realize it’s covered in tightly wrapped bandages under my gown.

“Hello?” I finally call out. “Is anyone there?”

“I’m here,” a soft voice whispers from behind me. I recognize the voice. My voice. I don’t want to turn around and look, but I do anyway.

“Who are you?” I ask as another me casually wanders into view. This me is 8, like I was on the ground in Chloe’s backyard. Dressed in the same jean shorts and pink tank top I was wearing that day.

“Are you cereal? I’m you, obviously. Who else were you expecting?”

I don’t answer. If I’m being honest, I’m a little scared now. The last time I remember talking to myself I was a complete asshole. Maybe 8 year old Alt-Max is nicer than the 18 year old version, but it’s still creepy.

“Why are you here Max?” she asks me. For a second I swear I can hear the words echo in Kate’s voice. It’s the same question she asked me on the roof, when I tried to talk her down before…

A misty, jumbled, vision seems to form in the air behind her. Two memories of the same event.  One where Kate took my hand and stepped down, and another where she … didn’t.

_ Which is real?  What have I done? _

The vision fades, and I finally answer my tiny doppelganger. “I … I don’t know. I’m not even sure where here is.”

As I look around I start to see more faint visions in the distance. Memories, I guess, but jumbled and confused. I remember so many versions of what happened in the bathroom that day. So many different versions of everything that happened this week, and they’re all there in the distance, but faint, as if they aren’t completely real.

“What is this place? Who are you? Why am I here?”  The floor feels like it’s spinning, as memories continue forming and dissipating more and more rapidly.

I try to focus on just one, like that trick to avoid motion sickness. A vision of the lighthouse takes form, only it’s a mixture of every time I’ve ever been there. I can see Chloe and I kneeling as it snows, talking on Monday afternoon. I see myself fighting up the hill towards the lighthouse through the storm. I see Chloe and I embracing as the tornado rips Arcadia Bay to shreds. I see teenage Max and Chloe racing up the hill on a sunny day. I see two figures silhouetted on the lighthouse balcony.  

Somehow, I can see all of them at the same time, mixed together, yet distinct. It’s more than a bit disorienting. I feel like I’m going to throw up. Can I even do that here?

Mostly, though, I just feel like I’m going crazy.

“Those are some complicated questions there Max, and I’m not really sure you’re ready for the answers yet.” Minimax answers, reaching up and putting a steadying hand on my shoulder.  As she touches me, the world slowly stops spinning and I’m able to stand up straight. The distant vision thing seems to have stopped as well. Everything is just gray floor extending into the darkness again.

“No,” she says, looking me in the eye.  “You are most definitely not ready for that yet.” She lets go of my shoulder, but it it seems warm where her hand was. Like I have a sunburn under my gown.

“You should see this though,” Mini-me says, moving to stand beside me. 

The ground seems to fall away in front of us. The scene below melts into the main hall at Backwell Academy, just outside the girls bathroom. It’s a good view, looking down from above that one of David Madson’s security cameras.

The hall is crowded. It looks like almost every student at the school is here, though I don’t see Kate or Warren. The bathroom door bangs open and two EMT’s wheel my body out on a gurney. Mrs. Grant is making a path to the main door, talking, guiding, and sometimes shoving students out of the way to make room, still clutching a clipboard in one hand.

_ Guess I won’t get a chance to sign the petition after all. _

The first paramedic, a tall, well built blonde guy with a crew cut, is pushing the gurney as the second, a short girl with red hair runs alongside and tries to finish strapping me down with one hand, the other hand holding something on my chest, presumably to keep me from bleeding out.     


I wonder absently if it’s still Chloe’s beanie.

Chloe comes out of the bathroom right behind them, trying to stay as close as she can without interfering. She’s still covered in blood, but she’s alive, so I’m happy anyway.  

Everyone pushes in a bit, babbling and trying to get a better view as I roll by. Can’t miss the drama, especially not something this big. I see Victoria with her posse. Courtney and Taylor standing next to her, right up front near the school exit. Victoria’s perfectly manicured nails are held up delicately in front of her mouth.  

Her other hand is clutching her phone, snapping pictures every few seconds.

_ Get a good shot, Victoria. Maybe you can put a vintage filter on it when you post me all over social medias. _

I see David holding onto a handcuffed Nathan below me near the door to the principal's office. Nathan is shaking his head side to side nonstop, whispering to himself. “I’m sorry.  Sorry. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Not Kate. Not Rachel. Anyone. Sorry.” I can barely make it out as they wheel me out the door and down the front stairs, but David appears to be listening intently to every word.

He shouts something at Chloe, but she just shakes her head at him as she walks by. He looks like he wants to chase her down, but he can’t leave Nathan.

Somehow, the view shifts to outside the school without me actually moving. The medics are lifting me down the stairs. The girl seems to have given up on strapping me down as she lifts the front of the stretcher to carry me down the stairs. 

Suddenly my body starts to violently jerk and flail around like I’m having some kind of seizure. I nearly fly off the gurney as they rush me to the bottom of the stairs and grab my flailing limbs. 

Someone screams as the paramedics do their best to keep me from falling off the stretcher and landing on the pavement. It shouldn’t be that hard. I’m pretty small, but it seems all they can do to keep me from flying off and smashing into the ground.

I notice my nose is bleeding.

I can feel everything start to fade away, just like in all those cheesy Lifetime movies. I find it sadly ironic that the low budget melodrama bullshit my Mom loves so much seems to be an accurate depiction of what it’s like to die.

The paramedics are doing their best, trying to hold my body in place and finish strapping me in, but I am not making it easy on them. They look panicked. Scared. I guess I always thought of first responders as being some kind of unflappable super heroes.They are, of course, but they’re also just people. Especially in a backwater like Arcadia Bay where the worst thing they’ve probably had to deal with is scraped knees and overheated kids at the country fair.

In any case, they’re way too busy to notice Chloe slip up next to me, grab my waving arm and grip my hand. Too focussed on tightening the straps across my chest and legs to stop her from leaning over me and whispering in my ear.

I swear I can smell flowers, and hear distant laughter. I can feel her breath on my face as she leans over me and whispers.

“Stay with me Max. Please. Don’t go. Not yet.”

 

* * *

 

The world melts again.  This time I’m in my 7 year old body.

I’m standing in front yard of the Price house next to Chloe. The two of us with our dad’s.  It’s a warm June Saturday. Bright sun shining through the trees.

_ I remember this day too. It’s the day we met at the beach. Our dad’s knew each other from work, and when they started talking,Chloe and I hit it off. We’d been playing together all afternoon, building sand castles, swimming, chasing birds. We played or first game of pirates that day. We’d just finished walking to their house before Dad told me it was time for us to go. _

“Stay with me Max! Don’t go yet.” Chloe says, clutching my hand. “We haven’t finished our game. Maybe you could sleep over! That would be so great. Can she dad? Can she?”  

This Chloe is so … bubbly and full of life. So outgoing and happy. I couldn’t believe someone like her wanted to be my friend. She was nine, and she actually thought I was funny and cool, not awkward and shy like I always felt inside. We’d only known each other a few hours, and she was already the coolest person I’d ever met.

“Calm down Chloe,” William says with a chuckle. “I’m sure Mr. Caulfield and Max have things to do tonight. You only just met, and you already want to jump to the sleepovers? What are you going to do tomorrow, join the circus together?” He laughs again, that casual, easy William laugh that made everyone smile.

“We’re not joining a circus, dad! We’re going to be pirates! Right Max! Tell them! Tell them you want to stay.” She hurls herself at me and gives me a giant hug, nearly knocking me over in her enthusiasm. We both stumble and then burst out laughing.

“Can I dad?” I ask. “I want to stay, and we’re not doing anything...”

“I’m not sure Maximus,” my dad says, scratching his beard like he always does when he’s thinking. “We don’t want to impose, and like Mr. Price said, you only just met. Are you sure you’re ready for a sleepover?”

“Totally!” I say, trying to put as much confidence in my voice as I can muster. Truth-be-told, I am a little nervous.  I’ve never had a sleepover away from home before, and we did just meet. What if she ends up not liking me later? 

But I so want her to like me.

Dad looked at me skeptically and a little surprised. Jumping into something like this was more than a bit out of character for me. I was always shy. Quiet. Antisocial even.

_ Chloe always did do that to me. Being around her gave me confidence. It made me want to take risks. Right from day one I guess. I always felt … normal, not anxious, when I was with her. _

“I don’t want to put you on the spot, Ryan, but we really wouldn’t mind if you don’t.” William says, and I can feel my heart jump into my throat. Chloe and I are both looking at my dad, quietly bouncing in place hoping he says yes.

I know we’ve won when Dad changes from stroking his beard, to tapping his lips. It’s his tell.  When I know he’s going to say yes, but doesn’t want to let on just yet. “Well…” he says, “I did promise your mom I’d take her out this weekend for birthday. I guess if Mr. Price really doesn’t mind, and you think you’d be okay, we can give it a try if...”

Chloe and I both squeal in joy like only kids can, and give our dad's hugs before we run off towards Chloe’s back yard.  “Quick!” Chloe grabs my hand as we’re running. “Before they have a chance to change their minds!”

We run together, laughing the whole time…

 

* * *

 

The scene fades away, and I’m in the gray place, looking down at the school. My body has stopped thrashing around, and they’re lifting me into the back of the ambulance. Chloe still has a grip on my hand as she jumps up into the ride along seat in the back. The paramedics don’t even try to stop her.

_ Alright Chloe.  I’ll stay with you. _

_ For a little while at least. _

The scene in front of me fades away as the doors to the ambulance close.

 

* * *

 

The scene in front of me fades until I’m alone in the flat gray … room? I guess it’s a room of some sort. 

I wander a bit, not really expecting to find anything, but I do. After a few steps, the floor in front of me drops away again, and a new scene forms. This time I’m looking down into a hospital operating room where what seems like every doctor in Arcadia Bay is taking a turn poking and cutting on me.

I know it’s me down there, even though you can’t really see my face with all the tubes and wires.  Again, the cliche bugs me a bit. Maybe I should have paid more attention to Mom’s movies instead of hanging out in the basement watching reruns of Mystery Science Theater. I should be grossed out or scared, I guess, seeing how much of my insides I can see, but instead I’m only vaguely interested in what they’re doing to me.

“I don’t think anyone is meant to see this much of their own anatomy” I say to no one in particular.

“Well, you’ve never really wanted to look deep inside yourself, have you?” comes the answer from behind me.

“Oh, you’re back.” I say, making a conscious effort not to turn around and look at her this time. 

“Never really left. Nowhere else to go, just don’t have a lot to say at the moment.” Alt-Max answers, walking up to stand next to me. She’s 7 year old me this time I notice. She’s dressed for the sleepover, wearing a borrowed nightgown from Chloe, clutching my teddy bear in one hand.

“So if I’m not dead yet, what am I? Is this really some stupid out of body experience, or is something else going on? Am I, I don’t know, stuck in time? It never worked this way before. I always snapped back to the present. To whatever changed.”

She gives me a wry smile no 7 year old should be able to manage. “Maxine Caulfield has become unstuck in time…”

“Funny that, but I don’t see any Tralfamadorians around. I’m serious. It’s different. Maybe I changed things … right this time.” It’s not much, but it’s something to grasp onto.

Mini-me gives a small laugh. “Right means taking a bullet to the chest and bleeding out on the the bathroom floor at school?”

“I don’t know. It’s just… I didn’t use my power this time. In theory, nothing is different than it could have been if I’d never developed it. Maybe that makes a difference.”

“Or maybe you never made any changes at all. Does it really matter? Either way, this is your reality now.”

“I don’t know. Seemed worth asking the question I guess.”

“You’re asking the wrong question, though.” she says, clutching the stuffed bear to her chest in a very childlike manner.

“Kind of an asshole thing to say to the girl dying on the operating table.”

“It’s ironic how much we like calling ourselves names.”

“Well… I don’t really like myself all that much right now.”

“That has always been a problem for us, hasn’t it?”

“Stop being cryptic.” I say, getting a bit perturbed.  “What question is it you think I should be asking?”

“You shouldn’t be asking where you are or what you are. You should be asking what you’re here for.”

“So what am I here for then?”

“To understand. Hopefully. To understand, and to decide what you do with that understanding.”

“Gah! You are such a pretentious bitch sometimes.”

_ “ _ It’s the company I keep.”   
  


* * *

 

Everything fades and I find myself back in my 7 year old body again.  I’m wearing a borrowed Two Whales t-shirt, bouncing in the backseat of our station wagon, straining the seat belt as I talk nonstop to my mom about the sleepover.

“... and Chloe has the coolest room right above their garage that’s got tons of space to run around in and play, and you can be as noisy as you want without it bothering anyone downstairs!  And her mom made an awesome breakfast with pancakes and eggs and bacon and everything. She works at the diner downtown, and so it felt just like going to a restaurant. And Chloe loves art too, look at this cool picture we made together…”

My mom looks a combination of stunned and amused. Always the quiet child, they usually had to pump me for information about my friends. Well, when I had friends anyway. I probably looked possessed. Or high.

“Well I’m glad you found a new friend. I told you that you could make new friends if you just tried, didn’t I? And your dad knows Mr. Price from work, and we’re only a few blocks away, so you two will be able to see each other plenty.”

“Yeah! It’s great! Chloe and I promised to be best friends forever. She’s going into third though, so we won’t be in the same class, but we can still hang out at recess and after school. I want to have her over for a sleepover too so I can show her my photos. When we grow up, maybe we’ll get married and go on adventures all over the world.”

“Don’t be silly Max. Girls can’t marry girls.”

“They can’t?”

“No. It’s okay, though. You can still be best friends and go on adventures. There’s no rule against that. At least as long as you’re home in time for bed.”

“Yeah, right! So we’ll do that. We even plan to take over the world. It’s going to be great. I can’t wait until we’re all grown up...”

 

* * *

 

I can’t seem to stop shifting. Maybe it’s a side effect of my rewind powers, or maybe I managed to finally screw myself over, but whatever it is, I find myself back in the gray place again, looking down on a small waiting room. I’m still wearing the sterile hospital gown, and mini-Max is still standing next to me clutching teddy, though now she’s dressed like I was the morning after the sleepover.

The waiting room doesn’t look big enough to be the main waiting area for the hospital.  Just a small, clean room with a dozen chairs, a fake plant and a coffee maker that has some month old sludge burned into the bottom of the pot. 

Ironically, the small TV in the corner is playing some PBS special on time travel. Carl Sagan is droning on about paradoxes.

My parents are here, sitting in the corner opposite the TV with a doctor. Dad looks stoic, like he always does when something serious is going on. You have to look in his eyes to see how upset he is. They dart around the doctor's face, looking at everything over and over, trying to find answers.

My mom, of course, is on the edge of losing her shit. She’s quiet, but obviously distraught, holding a tissue and dabbing her eyes every few seconds. She hides her emotions about as well as an Arcadia Bay fisherman hides his smell.

Chloe is standing back a ways with Joyce, who has a hand on her daughter's shoulder. Joyce is still in her uniform from the Two Whales. She must have come right from work. Chloe’s found time to clean up and put on a new Two Whales shirt, so at least she’s not covered in my blood anymore. I wonder if Joyce brought it from the diner for her.

She still doesn’t have her beanie though.  

Chloe also looks like she’s about to lunge forward at any second and grab the doctor to shake some answers out of him. At a guess, my mom has only begrudgingly let them in. Dad probably agreed to let them stay, but they’re hanging back not to aggravate the situation. Feels like we’re kids again.

At the back of the room by the door I see a very uncomfortable looking Officer Berry.  He reaches out and turns off the TV.

The doctor is speaking in a quiet, but firm voice. He looks like he’s in his fifties. Very distinguished looking, with a steady, reassuring tone. I wonder if he specializes in giving families bad news.

“As you can see now that you’ve been in with her, your daughter is alive and stable. We had some really hairy moments over the course of the last five hours in surgery, and I thought we might have lost her once or twice, but she has a strong spirit and fought through it. I think we’re through the worst.”

“The bullet entered her chest and passed through the ribcage. It punctured her left lung, but luckily it missed her heart. That was very lucky, and she’s alive today because of that fact and the quick action those around her took to put pressure on the wound. If it had been an inch to the right, or if no one had been there in the first few minutes, we would have lost her before she made it to the operating room. Your daughter is a very, very lucky young woman.”

He takes a deep breath before continuing on. “I’m stressing this because I want you to appreciate the good before we discuss the bad. You see, the bullet had lodged itself against Max’s spine.”

“Her spine?” my mom repeats cracking with emotion.

“Yes” the doctor continues. “It had wedged itself between two vertebrae, just behind her heart. We were able to extract the bullet, and as near as we can tell, all of the shrapnel, but there is some damage to the spinal column. We don’t know exactly how much yet, since we were primarily focused on saving Max’s life. We examined it as well as we could, and tried to set things right so they could heal, but the truth is we just don’t know how bad it is. Not yet.”

“What’s the worst case scenario?” dad asks while pulling my mom in close with one arm. That’s dad. Always wants to know how bad it can be before he hears the optimistic appraisal.

The doctor takes a short breath, then looks directly at my parents. “At the worst… there is a possibility she could be paralyzed. That she would lose some or all bodily control below her shoulders.”

There’s a low moan. Chloe. I can see her right now, and she looks devastated. Rocking back and forth. I can tell what she’s feeling. Blaming herself. Joyce still has her hand on Chloe’s shoulder. I can tell she wants to embrace Chloe, but she’s holding back, probably unsure if Chloe would really want that. 

_ Don’t Chloe. This isn’t your fault. It was my choice. _

“Now I want to stress that this is the worst possible case. It’s likely, even probable, that the damage is a lot less severe, and that with the proper treatment and therapy she’ll be just fine.  As I said, she’s a strong willed young woman, and there’s a lot we can do to aid her healing. But the truth is, as things stand, that we just don’t know.”

“That’s one reason we’re keeping her in a medically induced coma. We need to keep her sedated and immobile while her body works to heal itself, and while we assess the extent of the damage. We’re also bringing in a specialist. Dr. Susan Kin is coming in tomorrow from Seattle.  We plan to do a number of tests and Xrays, and possibly follow up with an exploratory surgery to assess the damage and see what we can.”

“The procedure will…”

 

* * *

 

I back away from the scene and it fades away. “I could be  … crippled? Like Chloe in the alternate timeline?” In the gray distance I see a scene form of Chloe and I on the beach, me walking next to her wheelchair as the sun sets over dying whales. Only as I watch, the vision shifts again and I’m in the wheelchair with Chloe walking beside me. Almost before it fully forms, it fades away again.

“Yeah. Funny coincidence, isn't it?” Mini-me says with a half smile.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind. You’ll get there eventually. The more immediate question is, do you think you can live as a cripple? What if you’re paralyzed? Stuck in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Do you think you can live like that? Or would you try to go back in time and change it? Fuck it up again?”

“Wowzer. I… don’t know. I don’t know if I could be strong like Chloe was.” Again I see a scene form of Chloe and I her room in the alternate timeline. The one where she’s paralyzed from the neck down. The one where I really screwed everything up. It too fades away like a lost memory.

I step forward towards where the operating room was to see if I can tell what’s going on, but the scene has shifted again. Now I’m looking down on myself in the hospital room. Tubes and wires are coming out of me pretty much everywhere. A soft, steady beep issues form one of the machines I‘m hooked up to, letting me know I’m still alive.

You know … sort of.

Chloe enters the room and quietly closes the door behind her.  

She looks so solemn. So quiet. So … sad as she walks over to my body, and hesitantly reaches out for my hand. 

“Max. It’s … wow. This is so, weird. I mean, I haven’t seen you, or even talked to you in five years, and this is how we hook up again? Just like old times.”

“Yeah, just like then. Me here with the stupid jokes because I don’t know what else to say.”

“God Max, why did you do it?” she asks, kneeling down next to the bed, her face close to mine.  “Why didn’t you just stay hidden? Why were you even there? At least if you’d stayed around the corner you’d be okay. If anyone was shot, it should have been me.”

There’s a flash of anger in her eyes. “That fucking asshole Nathan. After everything he’s already done to me he pulls that shit?”

Chloe seems to hesitate, on the edge of telling me something. “He … dosed me last week. I met him at some shitty bar that didn’t card me. I uh, need money, bad. I owe big time, and I thought he’d be an easy score. So we went back to his dorm room and I laughed at his rich kid bullshit, but he was one step ahead of me, and he slipped something in my beer. I woke up and he was crawling toward me with his camera, taking pictures. I flipped out and hit him with a lamp and bum rushed the door. It was so crazy, Max.”

“Anyway, that’s why I was in the bathroom with him. I figured I could make him pay to keep quiet. Like I said, I need money pretty bad. I didn’t count on him bringing a gun, though.”

“I hope they string him up by his balls. If they don’t I might… “

Her voice cracks, and she takes a deep breath to steady herself. “I can’t … can’t stay. They need me to give a fucking statement. I’ll give them a statement alright. And I want you to know, I’m going to tell them the truth. All of it. Even the shit that will probably get me busted.”

“For you Max. I can’t stand the idea of that prick getting away with this because of me. He’s going to pay for what he did.”

“I only have a couple of minutes. I finally convinced your parents to let me see you before I go.  Your mom didn’t want me to, of course. I don’t think she ever really liked me, but your dad finally convinced her after what the doctor said. He’s still cool with me I guess.”

“I still can’t believe it. You hella save my life. I’m still tripping on that. After five years you come flying back into my life like some kind of fucking superhero. Super Max to the rescue.”

“Only now I need you to be okay. I need you to wake up. I need … you to come back.  So you can tell me why you’re here. Why you did that. I can’t let this happen to you because of me.”

“Please Max. Wake up.”

 

* * *

 

Another fade, and I’m 13.  Lying flat on a bed that, for some reason, is bouncing me up and down.

“Wake up Max!” Chloe yells, jumping on the bed a few more times.

_ Another sleepover.  We had so many. _

“Wake up Max! Dad’s making breakfast and we need to get down there before he burns it!”

Chloe’s long blonde hair is flailing wildly in the morning light as she leaps off the bed and opens her closet. She quickly pulls off her night clothes and starts getting dressed.  We always were pretty casual with that kind of thing. I sit up and stretch as she finishes dressing and throws some clothes as me, catching me in the face with a t-shirt mid yawn.

“Hey!” I shout, pulling the shirt off my face just in time for Chloe to hit me in the forehead with my shorts.

“I’ll get you for that!” I laugh as I lunge out of bed trying to fling a pillow at her, but it just hits the bedroom door as she slams it shut behind her.

“Have to catch me first, sleepyhead!” she calls as I can hear her running down the stairs.

I chuckle again as I start pulling the clothes on, plotting my revenge. I head out the door and down the stairs pulling my fair into a ponytail as I go. I’m wearing my shirt with the secret anagram. The one that Chloe and I always thought was so funny, mostly because our parents had no clue.  

As I come around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I can hear Chloe and William in the kitchen, and I spy the mess in the living room from last night. Joyce must be at work…

_ Oh shit. I know this day. This is the day William dies. _

_ No!  I will not live this again!  You can’t make me. I won’t do it! _

 

* * *

 

I snap back to the open space, throwing myself at the ground. “You can’t make me. I won’t do it.” I scream. I hit the ground hard, but it doesn’t actually hurt. Still, I lie there panting for a few seconds.

“No, I can’t. I can’t make you see what you don’t want to.” I hear Alt-Max say behind me. “I can’t make you understand what you’re unwilling to either.” I look up at myself again, but this time I’m 13, just like I was in the memory, wearing the same shirt.

_ No fucks given. _ I automatically translate, the phrase rattling through my head.

“But you can’t hide from it forever.” she continues. “Time is most definitely not on your side, Max Caulfield.”

“Who are you? And what is this place?  What are you trying to do to me?” I ask.

“I’m not going to bother answering questions you already know the answers to,” my 13 year old doppelganger responds.  

“Fuck you. I don’t know, or I wouldn't be asking.” Part of me wants to grab this little shit in front of me and shake her until she tells me what I need to know, but for some reason I can’t fathom I’m afraid to actually touch her.

She looks at me very intently, pausing for almost a full minute before finally answering. “I forget how much you’ve forgotten, and how much you’re refusing to remember.”

She starts pacing around me in a circle as she talks. Behind her I catch glimpses of things. Faint scenes from my life. Sounds, even smells waft through the air. It’s as if she’s dragging my life along, and part of it is leaking out as she walks.

“I could be all mystical and say it’s best if we think of this as kind of a crossroads in your mind, a waiting area as you travel through memory, but really that’s just bullshit.” I hear distant laughter smell a whiff of spring flowers, catch a glimpse of the lighthouse behind her before it fades as she continues to pace. “The truth is you’re exactly where you put yourself. On that hospital bed, in that room, waiting to see if you wake up and what your life is like if you do.”

“But how did I get here?”

“What?” she responds. “You aren’t going to blame this on your Time Travel powers? Chalk it up to the next mysterious super power you’ve developed? Spin it in with the rest of the story?” Behind her, the beach stretches out with the sun setting behind shadowy figures walking near the water.

“It’s just so… different.” I say, realizing how dumb that sounds even as it comes out. Different from what?

“I don’t know what I am, and what you are. What we’re seeing. Is this another alternate reality?  Is it real at all? It doesn’t… fit with my memories of the last few days. I just don’t get it. Augh!”

She’s never stopped pacing, this alternate me.  Still circling me slowly. But she stops now, and beckons me over. “You should probably see this.”  

I step forward, and my hospital room fades into view at my feet again. Clearly some time has passed, as I’m all cleaned up. No blood now, although I’m still a bit pale. I’m lying there hooked up to a couple of machines that are slowly beeping out a steady reminder that I’m alive. I’m wearing the same hospital gown I have on, and I imagine the bandages are there under the robe as well.

Mom is here, sitting close to me, one hand resting on the bed.  She used to sit like this when I was sick as a kid. Just being close, sometimes for hours at a time. As much as she and I argued… still argue… she’s always there when I need her. Even if she can be a bit of a martyr about it sometimes.

She’s got the room TV on, sound soft but loud enough to hear, tuned to the news.

“Mom’s always been obsessed with the news. It’s always on, even when she’s not watching.”  I say, knowing my 13 year old self is still hovering behind me. My other presence has become my only real companion. The only one I can interact with anyway.

“Oh I know. That or those shitty Hallmark movies about true love and crime. Drama is kind of her thing.”

“The news. Is that… are they talking about Mark Jefferson?” I’m trying to focus on the TV, where the news is showing a couple of mugshots of Nathan Prescott and Mark Jefferson over a headline that reads. “Local teacher and famous photographer arrested on suspicion of murder.” 

“Yes. Yes they are.”

“God. And Rachel Amber. It’s all coming out isn’t it? Just like in the other timeline, except here everyone gets to see it, and not just Chloe and I.”  

“Of course it’s coming out. How could it not? How else would you know about it?” Alt-Max asks.

“Jesus. Where’s Chloe? This has to be awful for her. Where is she?” I feel panicked.  _ I should be there for her. She’s going to need someone, and she doesn’t have anyone else. _

_ “ _ I don’t know. I don’t know anything more than you. I just understand more.”

“Fuck you” I say, deciding to give myself the silent treatment for a while. I really don’t need the attitude right now.

_ Where is she? _

I watch mom watching the news for a good long while. It turns out it’s late Tuesday. Just over a day has passed, and it occurs to me I don’t really know what happened with the specialist this morning. I should be more worried about that, I know, but I can’t muster a lot of interest in it right now as I listen to everything unravel on the TV.

Apparently Nathan folded like a house of cards when they took him in after shooting me. They arrested Jefferson this morning, and found the dark room in the afternoon after Nathan led them to it.  

They found Rachel’s body shortly after.

It’s all the news can talk about, of course. There’s a walk through of the junkyard where Rachel was buried, police tape surrounding the area near the bus where Nathan and Jefferson buried her body. I note, ironically, how there are beer bottles scattered in nearly every shot, and a doe bounding across the train tracks in another.  

They have a brief piece in front of the hospital where I am, talking about Nathan shooting me in the bathroom. My dad even makes a quick statement thanking everyone and asking for privacy while we deal with everything as a family.

There’s a whole history of the Rachel Amber story.  Who she was, when she disappeared, and whole slew of interviews with her former school mates.  

I frown a bit during the part. Everything they’re saying is all so familiar. Justin, Stella, Daniel, Evan, they’re repeating what they told me when I asked them about Rachel. It’s all so … familiar.

When they talk about the dark room, and what police suspect went on there, it gets even worse.  There’s a long piece on Kate, describing her as the most recent victim. Thank god they weren’t able to interview her, but they do show some pieces of the viral video. 

_ Bastards. _

But Kate is alive, and people know what happened. I hope it’s enough. In the other timeline she would have been on the roof already, and this time I can’t be there to to try and talk her down. I cling to the fact that there’s nothing on the news about her. With all this shit going on, if one of Jefferson’s victims committed suicide it would be right there in the middle of it.

All through it all I keep thinking is,  _ where is Chloe? _  She’s not in the news at all, even though the posters she put up of Rachel are everywhere in the coverage. Other than an offhand comment from Justin about how Rachel and “her blue haired friend” used to hang out with them, no one even mentions her.

The TV goes off, and I realize mom is getting up and stretching. Dad’s here now too. He must be picking her up, because they both give me a quick kiss and leave the room. Visiting hours must be over, so I’m alone again.

_ Where is Chloe? _

 

* * *

 

I’m 13.

It’s fall this time, and the leaves are turning bright colors, scattering through the air in the autumn breeze.  The weather is cool, so I have my hands stuffed in the pockets of my hoodie, hunched over staring at the ground as I walk.

To the untrained eye, it would look like I’m wandering aimlessly through the woods, but really, I’m following a well known path. One I travelled often that summer and into the fall, though usually not alone.

I reach the base of the tree and look up to see our tree fort. Really, just some scavenged two by fours nailed across branches with a bunch of wood scraps hammered into place to make up a floor. Various pieces of wood, siding and even blankets make up the roof and walls. Branches and leaves scattered all over to camouflage it.   

The whole thing looks like it could fall at any moment, and every now and then, parts of it would just fly off. My parents would have been mortified if they ever saw it, and terrified if they knew how much time Chloe and I spent in it together.  

We probably could have talked William into helping us build a real fort. It was the kind of thing he would have loved helping us do. But no, this had to be 100% secret. No one else could know about it, so Chloe and I pieced it together over the course of the summer. Our secret lair.

I’m standing at the base of the tree looking up like I can’t decide if I really want to go in. I know this day now. It’s been a week since Williams funeral, and I’m here to find Chloe.

“Chloe? Are you up there?” I call out finally.

There’s a pause, but then a small voice answers. “Yeah Max. I’m here.”

I climb the tree with practiced ease. We’d always talked about making a rope ladder to help climb, but by the time we found actual rope, we’d both mastered the climb anyway, so why bother? It was more secret this way anyway.

Chloe is a wreck. Sitting the corner, curled up in a ball of misery. She looks over her knees at me when she hears me pull myself into the fort. Her eyes are bloodshot, face wet, and long blonde hair tangled up a bit. It’s obvious she’s been crying. She doesn’t do much else when she’s alone lately. Or when she’s with me  She’s pretty stoic around her mom, but with me she lets it out.

I feel a stab of pain myself, but push it down. I don’t have the right to feel that right now. William was her dad. And the other emotions are irrelevant now.

“You’re, uh, mom is kinda freaking out. Says you’ve been gone all day and she can’t reach you on your phone. I told her I’d find you.” I say, trying not to look right into her face. I have a hard time looking Chloe in the eye lately.

“Yeah, I turned it off” she sighs  “Guess I should let the warden know I’m okay.” She pulls out her phone. The one we decorated together when she got it for her 14th birthday. I remember how jealous I was when she opened it. I still don’t have one.

I carefully step over the teen magazines and comic books scattered across the floor and sit down next to her as she finishes a quick text series to her mom.  “phone was off” “battery low” “sorry” “with max now” “home soon”

She shuts the phone off again and leans into me. My heart skips a beat as I put my arm around her, but I push that feeling down, pissed at myself again.

“It hurts so much Max. How can it still hurt this much? When does it get better?”

“I know it does Chloe, and I don’t know when it feels better. I wish there was something I could say or do to make it better. I wish…”

“I know Max. And you do help. Just by being here.” With that, she buries her face in my shoulder and starts sobbing again. Long, wracking sobs that shake her whole body, and rattle our little fort. I’m crying too, how could I not? But I keep it quiet, as I wrap my other arm around her and hold her tight.

The memory fades, but I know we’ll be there for awhile before she calms down enough to restore her mask and head home.

 

* * *

 

“It was like that. Every day. Every day for weeks after William died. Even when she was acting happy, I could tell. Deep down, it never faded for Chloe.”

“I remember.” My other self is still standing next to me, but now she’s dressed like I was in the treehouse. “It hurt for us too, didn’t it?”

“Yes.  But not like Chloe. I loved William too, but he was Chloe’s dad. I didn’t have a right to hurt like her. I didn’t have the right to feel that bad.”

“We had other issues at the same time, though, didn’t we?” she asks.

I catch the whisper of another memory. Chasing up the hill towards the lighthouse. Laughing.  The smell of spring flowers in autumn.  _ “Look Max! The door is open!” _

“It was her dad!” I shout, pushing the other memory down hard. I don’t want to be distracted. “She had every right to feel that way, and I was her best friend. I was supposed to be there to help her deal with it. Not to lean on her.”

“But we felt her pain. Like it was our own. And we couldn’t shut her out. Not Chloe.” she whispers.

“No. I couldn’t. I didn’t even want to. But god it hurt.”

“It seemed impossible to be around pain that intense. To feel … everything.”

 

* * *

 

In front of me I can see my hospital room again.

It’s the middle of the night, but the door is quietly opening, and I see Chloe sneaking into my room. She takes a quick look around to make sure it’s empty before gently closing the door, and moving over to my bed.

She looks so much like that day in the tree house that it about breaks my soul. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her face tear stained. I wish I could reach out to her like I did that day, but of course my body is not my own right now.

She looks at me so intently.

“I’m sorry to bother you Max. I know I shouldn’t be here, but, I had to talk to someone. And besides Rachel, you’re the only one I could ever talk to about shit like this. I don’t know why, but I feel like you can hear me somehow.”

“Or maybe I’m just crazy. It’s been a batshit crazy day.”

She holds up a picture. It’s the one of her and Rachel I found under her bed, where Chloe is flipping off the camera. The one she used for the all the missing person posters.

“This is… was... Rachel Amber. She was a … friend. I guess that’s putting it mildly. She was my angel. After my dad died and you left, she was the only one I could talk to. She saved me. We had plans to move to LA together. She was going to a model, and we were going to start a whole new life together, just two friends taking on the big city.”

“But that’s not going to happen. Six months ago she just left. Left Arcadia Bay. Left … me. Or so everyone thought. I figured something happened to her, because she wouldn’t just leave me, but no one else would listen. Her parents were in denial and the police closed the investigation.  I kept putting up missing posters everywhere, but no one seemed to know anything.”

“Well, today, they found her. That fucker that shot you and dosed me, Nathan, did the same thing to Rachel. Gave her some drug to knock her out so he could take … pictures of her. Him and that psycho teacher at Blackwell. But Nathan screwed up and overdosed her and she died.”

Tears are running down her face as she folds up into ball in the chair next to my bed.

“God Max. Who does that? What kind of world does this?” I want to reach out and embrace her like I did in the junkyard.  _ I’m sorry Chloe. I’m so sorry. _

“The fuckers buried her right in the junkyard where Rachel and I used to hang out. She was like, 20 feet away all that time, and I never knew it.”

“Why Rachel, Max? Why her and not me? Why you and not me? Why?”

She leans on the bed, and gently holds my hand as she cries.

I want to reach out to her. To support her like I did when we were 13. But I can’t.

_ I’m sorry Chloe. I am so, so sorry. _

 

* * *

 

“That’s almost exactly what she told me in her room. Almost word for word.”

“It is.”  I notice my other self has changed again. Now she’s 18 like me, and wearing Rachel's old clothes. The ones I found in Chloe’s closet.

_ Ready for the mosh pit, shaka brah. _

“Am I destined to hear every conversation over and over, in every timeline I live?”

Alt-Max chuckles in her flannel and ripped jeans. “Or maybe you’re just reliving it all in your mind over and over until you finally understand what you’re hearing. Maybe you just need to understand.”

“Do I really sound this pretentious in real life?”

“Pretty much. It’s all part of our unique charm.” she rejoins.

“You seem to be in a good mood.”

“Not really.” She looks at me intently again. “But we’re closer, so there is that.”

 

* * *

 

Time is so… fluid now. I spend a lot of time away from my body, reliving old memories. Mostly with Chloe. Sleepovers, our philosophical talks about our future. Our disastrous “wine tasting” session.

A memory of 4th grade, when Chloe stood up against the school pack of mean girls because they were tormenting me. Picking on my clothes, my obsession with photography and my shyness back before words like “social anxiety disorder” and “IEP” had entered my life.  

Memory after memory flies by. Sometimes I live them, and other times I just witness them next to my alternate self.  She’s always changing, taking on the aspect of the most recent version of me we’ve seen, but it’s still her. Still me. I don’t understand what she is, and I find myself not caring. We’re completely silent now. Like we’re playing some mental version of chicken to see who blinks first.

I spend time at the hospital too. Watching my parents watch me. Watching Chloe sit silently in the room with them. Dad tries to engage her in conversation sometimes, and Chloe talks back.  Catching up. She seems particularly interested in what I’ve been doing the last five years. She doesn’t share a lot in return, but dad isn’t really pushing her either. 

Mom and Chloe pretty much ignore each other completely.

And still memory after memory passes. It feels like I’m climbing up the hill in my nightmare again, only instead of seeing memories of the last week, of this week, I’m seeing my whole life.  It’s not so much flashing before my eyes as meandering, but I still wonder if it means I’m dying, just very slowly.

I’m back in the hospital, and the door to my room opens. My dad comes in, leading Warren and Kate. If I could, I’d leap off the bed and give Kate a hug I’m so happy to see her alive. My mom brings up the rear as they file in.  

“We’re so glad you could visit. Max can’t respond, obviously, but they say she can still hear you, at least subconsciously. It may seem a bit silly at first, but if you want, you can just talk to her like normal. They say it can really help.” Dad explains. He must have given them the rundown on my physical condition before they came in, because neither Kate nor Warren seem surprised by what they see.  

Well, Warren looks slightly nauseous, but he’s always got that look I think.

Kate smiles, and pipes up right away. “No, it doesn’t seem silly at all Mr. Caulfield. Hi Max.” she says as she moves closer to the bed. “I’m so glad they're finally letting in visitors. Warren and I have been calling to check on you, but this is the first time they’ve said it’s okay for us to come in. I think that’s great news, and I’m going to keep praying and hoping for you to recover even faster.”

“I really miss our tea sessions, and I know Warren misses having someone to talk to about Sci-Fi stuff. I try to fill in, but I’m just not very good at it, isn’t that right Warren?”

“Yeah,”  Warren answers. He’s clearly not as as relaxed about the “talk to the unconscious girl” plan as Kate. “I miss talking to you too.”

“Maybe when you’re all recovered we can go on a full tea tour of Portland to make up for lost time. That would be great, don’t you think? We could even bring Warren along if he wanted.”

“No, that’s okay” Warren chimes in. “Tea’s not really my thing, and I wouldn’t want to interfere with your girl time. No boys allowed.”

“You're so funny, but yeah, you're right I guess.”

“Everyone at school is worried about you, even Victoria. I know she's just sick about what's happening to Nathan too, they’re really close, but she also is really worried about you. She signed the card here with a really sweet message, and I believe she's being honest. See here it says…”

 

* * *

 

“Wowzer,” I say, breaking our silence. “Kate is still Kate. Despite everything she’s been through.”

Alt-Max stands quietly, looking on with me. She’s my age again, and dressed in the same t-shirt and jeans I wore on my first day at Blackwell. The day I met Kate, I suppose. And Warren.

“This is familiar too. Like when I visited Kate in the hospital.” 

I’m having a hard time focusing on that memory though. Did it really happen? Or did Kate die? I should know, but for some reason I can’t really be sure. Both seem equally real, or unreal, to me.

But Minimax stays silent. A small smirk is the only response I get.

 

* * *

 

“Well, I guess we should get going, Max. I am sorry we weren't able to visit sooner. I spent most of yesterday at the police station talking about, well you know.”  Kate stumbles a bit for the first time, like she didn’t really mean to bring this up. “The Vortex Club. Nathan. Everything.”

She swallows, and shakes her head a bit before returning the bright smile to her face. “Sorry, you don't need anything more to worry about. You need to concentrate on getting better. We'll visit again soon, I promise. Now that they’re allowing visitors in, I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of your friends too.” She leans in and gives me a little hug. Even removed from my body, it warms my soul a bit.

“I'll be out in a minute Kate.” Warren says to her as she moves towards the door. “I'd like to say goodbye, if you don't mind.”

“Sure Warren,” Kate says with a knowing smile. “I’ll just wait in the hallway.” My parents must have ducked out during the visit, because when Kate leaves, Warren and I are alone.

“Sorry Max. Uh, some of us are a bit more awkward than Kate.”  Warren starts. “I'm really sorry about what happened. I've always had this fantasy where I beat that guy down in the hallway of our dorm. He's such a prick. I kinda wish I had now.”

“I uh, got a new car. Well, a new old car anyway.  I was going to show it to you when, well, before you got shot. I even planned to ask you to a movie. Not that you would have wanted to probably, but I was going to ask. Typical Warren, though. I waited too long. Anyway, I really want you to get better so you can shoot me down yourself.”

Warren grimaces. I’d laugh if I could muster it right now. “Sorry ... that was a poor choice of words. The truth is, though, that I miss you Max. Get better soon. Please.”

Warren gives my hand a squeeze, and then follows Kate out of the door.

 

* * *

 

“Oh Warren. Am I doomed to repeat that one over and over too?”

“What, Warren doesn’t it do it for you?”

“He's just ... I don't know ... too much of a friend.”

“Are you cereal? Stop making excuses. The real truth is you know he's into you, so you're not into him. That's always been your schtick.”

“It's weird though. That conversation. Like all the others.”

“Yeah. Strange, isn't it?”

 

* * *

 

Back in my room, mom and dad are arguing quietly about something. Most people wouldn’t even notice, but I’ve been reading their body language my whole life. Something has them riled up. Before I can figure out what the topic du jour is, the door opens and Chloe shuffles in holding a large paper sack under her arm.  

“Hey,” she says, eyes moving right to my bed.

“Oh hi Chloe, it’s good to see you.” My dad gets up to greet her.

“Yeah, sure.” Chloe casts a quick, dark look, at my mom. “How is she? Any change?”

“Not yet. The specialist gave the all clear, and they’ve taken her off the medication that’s keeping her under. They still don’t know how … bad the spinal damage may be, but there’s no way for them to find out without her waking up now. They say it could still be a while. The doctors don’t want to rush it, so they’re basically letting her body wake up if… when it’s ready.  They say it could be a few days yet.” Dad’s watching Chloe pretty intently, but she doesn’t notice. She’s just staring at me.

“She could wake up any time though, so we’re trying to stay close, just in case.”

“Is it…”  Chloe seems to hesitate a bit before continuing, like she doesn’t really want to ask. “Is it okay if I stay a while?”

Dad makes a point of not looking at mom before responding. “Of course. In fact, if you plan to be here a while maybe we'll go down to the cafeteria and get some dinner. We don't want her to be alone.”

“Yeah, I'll stay Mr C. As long as Max n... as long as you need me too. Take your time. I've got nothing but time.” Chloe moves to the other side of the bed from my mom and pulls the chair up, setting the sack down next to her on the floor. I notice she still doesn’t have her beanie. I guess it was probably unrecoverable. Just another victim of the dark room. Her hair is growing in a bit, and I can see her blonde roots showing. The color there is fading. like the morning after our swimming pool adventure.

“Thanks Chloe.” Dad says. “Come on Vanessa, let’s see if there’s anything good down there today.” Mom gets up and joins dad without comment. “Do you want us to bring you anything up Chloe?”

“No thanks, Mr. C.  I uh, I’m fine.” Chloe answers, looking up at my dad for the first time since she came in. “Hey! You should actually head down to the Two Whales and get some dinner there. It’s way better than the cafeteria here, and Joyce is working, so you’ll get the good grub.”

My mom is looking suspiciously at Chloe, but Chloe continues anyway. “Tell her I said you can put it on my tab. My treat.”

Despite himself, my dad chuckles. “I’m not sure we should be adding to your tab, but thanks for the offer. Maybe we will check out the Two Whales again. It’s been years. Is Thursday still the meatloaf special?”

“You bet!” Chloe responds. “Nothing changes at the Two Whales but the prices. The food is still great. Take your time. Like I said, I can be here all night. I got nothing but time. I promise I’ll call you right away if anything happens.”

“Alright then, we’ll see you in an hour or two then, Chloe. And thanks.”

Somehow I follow Mom and Dad into the hallway. They’re still arguing, though it’s hard to tell if it’s the same topic from before.

“You know, you could try being nicer to her,” dad is suggesting.

“It's just that, why is she around so much? She hasn't seen Max in years, and then she gets her shot…”

“Vanessa, you know that's not her fault. We talked it over with the police.”  Sounds like an argument dad’s made a few times already. Suddenly I really want to wake up, just to tell mom that this was  _ my _ choice, not Chloe’s.

“Still. If she wasn't there. If she hadn't pushed that boy…” 

“Yes, and if Max had just stayed where she was, yada yada yada, but none of that really matters.” The yada yada line usually cracks my mom up. I have no idea why, but it’s an old inside joke of some sort he uses. It doesn’t work as well this time, but mom does seem to step back a bit. “You can see it in Chloe. How much it's breaking her up to see Max like this. And you remember how close they were. Like it or not, Chloe is back in Max's life now, and you better make peace with it.”

“She's just so ... different. With that hair, and tattoo and…”

“You felt the same way when she was a 14 year old bubbly blonde. That's not the real issue and you know it..”

Mom looks a bit, I don’t know, guilty?  “What are you saying…”

The scene below me shifts again, and we’re back in my room now.  This crap is almost as confusing as time travel.

Alt-Max is with me again.  “Always leaving at the wrong time, aren’t you?”

“Shut up. I want to be with Chloe.”

It doesn’t feel like much time has passed. She’s just sitting quietly, staring at me intently. Sunlight is coming in through the window blinds behind her. I always thought Chloe looked great framed in light that way.

Somewhere in the distance I hear laughter, and smell flowers again.  

“Hey Max. I uh, had a bit of a heart to heart with my step dou... step ... father last night.” Her eyes never leave my face. Like she’s waiting for something. “I haven’t told you much about him yet, but David and I haven’t exactly been pals. In fact I.. uh.. may even have tried to stab him once with a cake knife.”

“He’s a veteran, and he’s always been so .. I don’t know, militant I guess. He’s a security freak and I’ve always thought he’s got spy cameras in our house somewhere. He’s also always riding me about everything. Drugs, boys, school … everything. I’ve honestly never understood what my mom saw in him.”

“But last night…  He feels so bad about what happened. About everything. He apologized to me for, I don't know, everything ever I guess. About the arguments, the surveillance. Even the one time he slapped me when I told him …  when I told him I wished he’d leave my mom.”

“And it turns out that all that surveillance he did, it's kinda blowing the lid of the whole Prescott/Jefferson thing. I don’t think it really excuses him for everything, but it’s putting the Prescotts down hard, and I gotta respect that. And he did hella save your life in the bathroom with how fast he reacted.”

“It's like he's a whole different person. Like Mom said he was when they met. And it's weird, because when he first started talking I wanted to just tear into him for everything, but I could hear your voice at the back of my mind telling me to let it go. So I did.”

“I don't know if we'll ever be a family, but he does make my mom happy. And she deserves that for everything she's had to live through. He obviously cares a lot for her, and probably me too.”

“You know it's weird. Other than that .. minute .. or so where you were dying you and I haven't talked in five years. But somehow it's like no time has passed, and I'm just talking to you about all this weird shit.”

“I won't lie, I've spent most of the last five years angry and ... hurt ... by the silence. But the truth is, I just missed you. And I didn’t exactly do much to keep in touch on my side either.”

“Even Rachel knew it. Knew I couldn't stay mad at you. I guess I went on about you alot. I’ll probably do the same to you about Rachel when you wake up.”

“God I wish you could have met her. You two would have really hit it off. She was into art and photography, and she was a smartass like you. We would all have been hella best friends forever.”

She pauses for a minute. I can tell her emotions are all over, and she’s doing that Chloe-pause to push it all down again.

“Speaking of photography, by the way, I uh, tried to fix your camera.” She holds up the paper sack she had tucked under her arm when she came in. She reaches in and pulls out several pieces of my old instamatic camera. “It must have broke when you landed on it. David gave me your bag back yesterday.  

“I found out that, surprise! I still suck with tiny tools, so I think I made it worse. I feel kinda bad about it, and I know it was your birthday last month so I, uh, brought you a present.”

She reaches back into the sack and pulls out another familiar object. “It's my dad's old instant camera. I want you to have it. For when you wake up. I know you’d try to turn it down, but I really want you to have it. My dad would be pissed if I never used it, and if I give it to you, I know it will be used awesomely.”

“So now you have another reason to come back. I want to see what Spider Max can do with this thing.” She sets it gently on the nightstand. “It’ll be here for you, loaded and ready to go, when you wake up.”

“And I’m going to snag this picture as a symbol of our reunion” she says, holding up the now infamous butterfly photo. “Cool?” 

“Well, if you want it back, you can tell me when you wake up.”  She leans in close to me again, like she did on the stretcher. “I miss you Max. Come back to me. Please.”

 

* * *

 

If I could cry here, I probably would be. She seems so earnest. So different from our first meeting in the other timeline. I guess I expected her to be way more pissed at me than she is.  She’s more like the Chloe I left by the lighthouse in the storm.

Despite all of that, the conversation still bothers me.

“It's like, all the pieces are still there. Time is splintered, and I'm still reliving it all. Just out of order, and ... jumbled. Weird.”

“Yeah, funny isn't it. Strange coincidence after strange coincidence. Almost too strange really.” Other Max says.

“What are you saying? That this isn’t real? That I’m dreaming again? That, all of this is just ... made up?” I’m kind of fed up with all the dancing around my alternate self has been doing. I don’t know how close I am, but it’s about time we just had this out. “Are you saying that I’m not really seeing any of this, and it’s just memories?”

The hospital scene has faded again, and I’m alone in the gray space, but now it seems even more menacing than before.

“It could be that.” My alternate self wanders into view again. She’s a kid again, this time sporting a pirate hat and eyepatch. I remember the outfit from my twelfth birthday party. “Or maybe something else entirely.”

“What do you mean?” For some reason, I’ve gone from being pissed to being afraid again, and I don’t really understand why. It’s like Chloe in the bathroom when Nathan pulled the gun, but I can’t see what weapon my alter ego just pulled as she wanders past me.

“You’re so close Max.  _ We’re _ so close. Come on, I know you can do it. I know you see the real answer. You just have to admit it to yourself.”

I take a deep breathe and close my eyes, because I know she’s right. I’m right. When I open them again, she’s 18 year old me again, wearing the pink skull nightshirt I had on when I woke up at Chloe’s after we broke into Blackwell.

“You think … that I never changed time. You think that it was all a figment of my imagination.  Made up to pass the time while I lie here in a coma. That the false memories aren’t what I’m seeing now. They’re what I remember before.”

“Is it?”

My mind rebels at the idea. If that’s true it means she doesn't… That we didn’t…

“No fucking way.” I say, advancing angrily on myself, fists balled up at my side. “I saw it. I lived it. Why would I make that up? Time travel? William? The Dark Room? Why would I want that?”

Alternate Max stands her ground, smirking. Behind her the sky splits open with a crack of thunder.  Lightning flashes as torrents of rain spray down on the landscape behind her as it melts into another scene I remember all too well.

Chloe and I are standing on the beach, directly in the path of the tornado. But I’m not staring at the storm. I staring directly into Chloe’s eyes, slowly moving towards her as if being pulled by some irresistible force. “I always wanted my life to be special … an adventure … but not without you.” We’re both soaked to the bone, standing there in the path of the storm, but I hear every word crystal clearly. “And my powers wouldn’t even exist without you since I didn’t even develop them until I came back here.”

Chloe is staring at me just as intently as she responds. “Then for whatever scientific, mystical reason we’ll obviously never understand, we were meant to be together here, at this exact moment.”

Just as quickly as it came up, the scene melts away into the ground again, and I’m left standing beside myself in silence. She’s changed again. Back into my 13 year self wearing a pair of shorts and an anime T-shirt.

“But then why do I remember it now? It makes no sense.”

“Time isn't linear. And neither is memory.” Alternate Max explains.

“Then what about the storm?” I ask, bringing out my last defense. “What the fuck is that supposed to be if you’re so smart?”

“You're the storm Max. Just like at the lighthouse. You’ve always been the storm.  _ We’ve _ always been the storm. It’s there to hide the truth. The truth we realized five years ago. The one we’ve always known deep down. Again and again, it always comes back to the lighthouse. You can never really escape it.”

“It's the crux. The decision point. It's where everything happens. Or happened.”

“Or almost happened.”

“Are you ready now, Max?”

 

* * *

 

I’m 13 again, wearing the same shorts and anime shirt.

I know this day well, though I’ve tried hard to forget it. It was a warm Saturday in September, a few weeks before William died.  Joyce was working and my parents were busy, so the three of us went down to the beach to spend the day running around. William parked himself on a chair on the beach with his book and a cooler, and declared it “do whatever the heck you want” afternoon.

Chloe and I spent hours chasing around. We raced everywhere that day. Up the hill, through the woods, between all the RVs and cars. Laying on the beach, climbing the hill, racing back down again. Talking about everything. Life. What we were going to when we grew up. Where we were going to go.

I remember thinking to myself,  _ this is perfect.  If I could spend the rest of my life, just like this, fun and carefree with my best friend, I’d do it in a heartbeat. _

We’re racing back up the hill towards the lighthouse now. Up the path I traveled, or thought I traveled, over and over last week. Laughing the whole way. Racing past the stump where I carved our initials, and the map where Chloe marked our secret fort, right up to the lighthouse.

“Look Max!  The door is open!  I wonder if anyone’s in there?” Chloe says, moving up to the door and peering in. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s home. Hello?” she calls up into the lighthouse listening for an answer.

“Come on Chloe, don’t get us in trouble. You know we’re not supposed to go in there. That’d be breaking and entering.”

“Oh come on Max. The door is open, so we aren’t breaking anything. They can’t charge us for just … entering!” She flashes me that mischievous smile. The one that always got us into so much trouble.

“Come on Max! Are you chicken? Let’s go up and see. Race you! Tag you’re it!” She lightly taps me on the shoulder and and she’s off, tearing at top speed up the spiral staircase just inside the tower.

As always, I can’t resist, and I’m racing up behind her, taking the steps two at a time.

We get to the top, where the giant lamp is sitting idle in the afternoon sunlight, and Chloe lightly skips past it and out onto the balcony beyond. I dash out after her and grab her around the waist, pulling her towards me and calling out “got you!”

Chloe laughs, and turns around, throwing her arms around me too.

Time slows. 

_ She’s so beautiful. _ I think to myself, noticing how her face is framed by the light from the afternoon sun. We’re so close to each other, bodies pressed tight on the narrow balcony, our faces inches apart. I can smell Chloe’s flowery perfume. The one her dad got her on her 14th birthday. She always makes a point of wearing it on outings with her dad. I always thought it matched her her 14 year old personality so well. Light and airy. 

Neither of us are laughing anymore, though. There’s something else there now, and I find myself slowly leaning forward, lifting myself up on my tiptoes, eyes closing, lips parting…

“Chloe Elizabeth Price and Maxine Caulfield! What are you two doing up there?” 

The shout catches us both by surprise, and I find myself stumbling back from Chloe. Tearing myself away, a hair's breadth away from making what probably would have been the worst mistake of my life.

Chloe is looking at me with a slightly confused expression as William calls up again. “You come down here this second, do you hear? You are both in so much trouble.” Chloe flashes me her patented smirk and a wink, before silently heading into the lighthouse and down the stairs.

I feel sick. Like I’m about to throw up.

_ What did you do Max? What the fuck were you thinking?    _

My mom’s voice echos from across the years. _ “Don’t be silly Max. Girls can’t marry girls.” _

I’m stumbling into the lighthouse now, trying to make my way down the steps without falling.  The world is spinning around me as I keep a death grip on the railing.

_ You saw how she was looking at you after. She doesn’t feel that way! You’re a fucking idiot Max. What if you’d done it? What if William hadn’t found you? What would she think? _

_ What if she realizes anyway and never wants to be with you again? _

_ Girls can’t marry girls. _

_ Why do I feel this way?  _

_ What is wrong with me? _

_ What will I do if she knows? _

I come out of the lighthouse door just as William is finishing his tirade against Chloe.  “... I should put you both in timeout!”

“A timeout dad? Really? What are we, like 8 again?” Chloe is being snarky, of course, but she’s pouring on the “daughter” charm to William like only she can do. “Really dad, we’re sorry. We just saw the door was open and wanted to see the view. It’s awesome by the way! But we just weren’t thinking and got carried away. We didn’t do anything to anything in there, though. I swear, Arcadia Bay shipping is perfectly safe.”  She finishes up, flashing him that smile that lets her get away with murder. My dad would probably crucify us if he’d been here.

“Alright, alright.” William sighs, defeated. “I guess I can’t fault you two for being curious, but you do need to be more careful! You’re young adults now, and you need to start acting like it!”

“You’re right dad, we’ll try to be better, we promise! Right Max?”

“Uh, yeah.” I answer, still trying to hold the contents of my stomach in place. “I’m sorry too.”  I must look scared, because Williams face softens even more when he sees me. He must think I’m scared about getting into trouble. It’s good cover I guess.

“It’s okay, I guess. Sounds like you two have learned your lesson. Just … don’t mention this to your mom, either of your moms, or they’ll skin me alive.”

“You bet, dad. Come on Max! Let’s go grab a soda from the cooler.” Chloe reaches out and grabs my hand, dragging me along behind her. 

_ She doesn’t know. I’m safe. God Max, that was fucking close. _

As I follow Chloe back to the beach, I feel relieved, but also a little disappointed, and I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if William had shown up five minutes later.

 

* * *

 

The scene melts away and I’m standing in the wide empty space again.  I’m alone now. Alternate Max, whatever she is, isn’t standing with me anymore, but I know she can still hear me.

“I love her,” I say. “I’ve always loved her. I didn’t just … fall for her during some wild and crazy time travel adventure last week. This wasn’t her at all. It was me. It’s always been me.”

In front of me, brief scenes play out. Parts of memories I’ve been hiding from myself. Gazing at Chloe when she wasn’t looking, with an expression whose meaning no one could miss. My heart fluttering when we touch. A daydream while we lie on the beach together. All of them were there the first time I relived it, but ignored or hidden to avoid the truth.

“I fell in love with her when I was 13. Maybe even when I was 7. I think I may have been in love with Chloe since we first met. Or at least since the moment I realized the truth about … what I am.”

_ And we’ve always been afraid. _

Other memories are passing by as well.  The few guys who've shown an interest in me over the years, and my gentle rejection, time after time. Warren. Fernando. That weird kid in tenth grade who sent me flowers.

“Yes. Afraid of what she would think. Of what Mom would think. Or Dad. The world.”

And I can’t hide from the rest of it either. I see memories of other girls I’ve met, and crushed on over the years. Kristen in Seattle. Kate here in Arcadia Bay. Even Victoria drives me crazy partially because of who I am.

But no one was like Chloe.

“I know it’s supposed to be okay, but it always felt like I was wrong. Broken. Hiding some dirty secret.”

_ Girls can’t marry girls. _

“I was … am, afraid of all of that. But mostly what I’m afraid of is…”

_ Rejection. _

“Yeah. What if she doesn’t feel the same way? She never gave me any indication she had these … feelings like I did. The casual flirting. The hints. The suggestions. They were always me. Never Chloe.”

“What if she couldn’t be around me after she … knew. What if she’s not like me at all? What if I lost her because I loved her?”

_ That’s why we left. _

“I didn’t … choose to have dad get a job in Seattle. I didn’t choose to leave.”

_ No, maybe not, but we were … relieved. _

_ Distance. _

_ Distance from her pain. _

_ Distance from her. _

_ Distance from the feelings. _

_ Distance from the shame. _

_ It's why we never wrote. _

“I tried. Tried to write her, dammit. Every day for weeks. Letters, emails, even text messages when mom and dad finally gave me a cell phone. I just couldn't ... I didn't know what to say.  What to do. Everything I wrote would have made it worse.”

I see another vision of myself in my new room in Seattle, hiding under my desk, curled in a ball rocking. Balls of paper scattered around me.

“Then every week. Then every month. Until I just … stopped.”

_ It's okay. We were young. It was a hard time, and we were dealing with a lot. New school. New house. New people, and no friends. Everything got worse for a while. The depression and anxiety. No one can blame us. _

“Chloe can.” 

_ Yeah. You're right. She could. _

I look down at the hospital room again. Chloe is still sitting next to me, silent now, with one hand resting on the bed, touching my hand.

“I can't even hold it against her if she does.  How could I?” She’s still staring at my face intently, like she’s waiting for something. Something I’m not sure I can give her. Something I’m not even sure she would want anymore. Not if she knew the truth. 

“God she’s beautiful.”

_ Not everyone would think so. _

“No. But I do. I always did. I was just too afraid to admit it. To her. To myself. I’ve spent the last five years … actually my whole life … hiding from everyone.”  I’m studying her face, as she studies mine on the bed.

I sigh.

“So all this. Time travel, super powers, Blackwell ninjas, everything… was just made up? Wish fulfillment while I lie here dying. It’s just me wanting one of our comic book stories to be true so that it would be okay for me to be … me. So she would feel the same. So I could … die … happy?”

_ I guess, in the end, it doesn't matter if it's real or not. If you actually developed time travel powers. Actually lived through that week or if you made it all up while lying here in a coma. Either way, all those memories never happened. Either you changed them, or they were never real. So no one but you will know them. No one else will remember. But there is a difference now. _

_ Do you understand?  Do you know why you are here now? Why you rushed out instead of staying hidden? _

“Because I knew it was Chloe. And I couldn't hide. Not anymore. In the bathroom, or here, in my own head. In that moment, I knew.”

_ So now you know. _

“Yes, I know who I am. What I am. And I know what Chloe was to me. Is to me.”

_ But you don't know... _

“I don't know what I am to her. After five years, maybe she doesn't really care for me. Or maybe she never did ... that way. Maybe all of this... “ I gesture towards the hospital scene below me. “...is just her feeling guilty about the bathroom. Maybe I made this all up because it's what I always wanted.”

_ Yes, maybe we did. But maybe not. Or maybe only some parts are real. _

“I don't get to know, do I?”

_ No. Not this time. This time we have to act without knowing. _

“So that's what this is about? Deciding ... if I'm going to stay.”

_ Yes. _

_ It's a risk. You don't know what your life will be like. What it will be like to live. If you'll be injured. Crippled. If she'll forgive you. If she'll care for you. If you'll even care for her. What your mom will say. What you're dad will feel. How your friends will react to all of this. _

_ You don't get to know any of it. _

_ And I’ll tell you this, we don't get to rewind if we don't like how it goes. Whatever that was, it’s gone now. From now on, we’re just Max. _

“Or ... I can just go?”

_Yes. Or we can just go._ _Honestly, it'll probably be easier if we do._

“What’s it like?”

_ I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t get to know any more than you, and now you understand everything I do. You don’t really need me for this anymore. This is your decision. _

“But if I stay, I at least get to know who I am.”

_ Yes.  No one can take that away from us again. _

“Will you be there with me too?”

_ Yes. Of course. No matter what choice you make. I'll always be with you. Forever. _

 

I decide.

 

The room around me fades, and my perspective seems to shift into the hospital room.  Sliding towards my body again.

 

There’s a rush of wind, as the world goes dark.

 

I’m not  _ there _ anymore.  I’m  _ here  _ now. 

 

I open my eyes, blinking the fuzziness out of my vision, and her face comes into focus.

 

And she smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Like many others you have heard before, Life is Strange came into my life when I was dealing with a lot of other issues, and it hit me like an emotional freight train. Although ultimately my experience with the game was positive, finishing my first play through left me in a bad place. I became obsessed with finding the "right" ending, and the "right" answer to every decision in the game. One option offered a heroic ending, but left Chloe dead, and Max, with whom I strongly identified with, dealing with a future full of regret and depression, remembering something that never happened, and that she could never share. The other let Max and Chloe find true companionship, but with a future tainted by the cost they both paid to get there. 
> 
> Overly dramatic maybe, but that's where I was at the time. I read other fan fictions, many incredibly good and entertaining, but none quite matching what I needed. 
> 
> This story, my first and only fan fiction, grew out of a need to have an ending I could live with. I neither wanted to undo what Dontnod gave us, nor canonize either ending, but I needed sometime added to the end to help me cope. It was therapy, pure and simple, and if I'm being honest, never intended for publication.
> 
> So why publish it now? I'm not really sure. Maybe time and the addition of two more games in the franchise have changed my perspective somewhat, but rereading it today I decided I might as well post it. Maybe it will resonate with someone else, or maybe it will lie here unread. I'm still not 100% certain I'll even hit the post button when I get there, but if you are reading this, then obviously I did. 
> 
> In that event, assuming you read it, I hope you enjoyed the story.


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